In Brooklyn, Red Hook Tavern’s much-buzzed-about dry-aged burger regularly draws dozens of hopeful diners into a queue that snakes down the block. Those in the know will tell you that you can now order the famous burger at Tavern Next Door, the new neighboring cocktail bar run by the same team. But Tavern Next Door, which is lit with a slight neon glow that evokes an Art Deco, midcentury supper club, is an experience in its own right. There, it’s head bartender Conor Johns’ inventive, ’70s-era disco drinks that take center stage.
On the menu, under the banners of “Strong & Stiff” and “Shaken & Refreshing” are throwbacks like the Singapore Sling and Tequila Sunrise along with the Rusty Nail and Brandy Alexander. Johns uses the original names and many of the core components of each drink as familiar signposts, but employs unexpected ingredients and techniques that would be foreign to a bartender who pulled shifts at Studio 54 back in the day.
That many of these oft-dismissed drinks are no longer ordered by cocktail enthusiasts is what makes them so special to Johns. “Keeping the original names helps put guests at ease and not feel intimidated by the modern twists, techniques and ingredients we’re incorporating,” he says. “The best compliments we get are that these drinks remind people of their past but in a new way to experience them.”
Over several visits I’ve had the chance to sample my way through all of the drinks, but the one I can’t stop thinking about is the White Russian. I wondered whether you could really call a cocktail a White Russian if it wasn’t made with vodka and Kahlúa, but after trying it, it instantly won me over.
Johns upends any Dude-soaked Big Lebowski expectations by serving his version as an Old-Fashioned variation with an old-school soda fountain-inspired twist. What began as his answer to an Espresso Martini transformed into a five-bottle pick-up that soars miles above any memories of the original. He layers 1/2-ounce each of mezcal, Demerara rum, Braulio amaro and vanilla and coffee liqueurs with a few dashes of Angostura bitters to make this drink, which he batches and keeps chilled and at the ready.
“The lower equal-parts measure allows each ingredient to shine through in their own way,” says Johns. The mezcal he uses, Los Siete Misterios “Doba-Yej” Espadín, “brings a vegetal poblano-esque note along with significant smoke,” while the rum, El Dorado 3-year, “serves as a clean sugarcane bridge to the undiluted vanilla expression.” I found the Braulio to be the most unexpected ingredient in the mix, but it delivered what Johns calls “a rustic, ski resort nod” to a drink that could most definitely be enjoyed by the fire après-ski as well as a warm summer evening. And as for the MIA Kahlúa? He considered keeping it around but acknowledged that “it doesn’t hold a flame to Forthave Brown.”
But for me, the showstopping key ingredient is a housemade vanilla malted whipped cream. Inspired by Johns’ mother’s love of summertime malted milkshakes, he carefully layers the whip over the surface of the finished drink. In a sea of cold foam click-bait, the finishing touch is an intentional move that channels the essence of a malted vanilla milkshake dissipating with the finality of a passing summer cloud.
I think the White Russian is an ideal final drink of the night, but next time I’m going to follow Johns’ suggestions to pair the Tavern Burger with a White Russian for “an elevated burger and a milkshake experience.”
